


the plankton/krabs rivalry that ultimately resulted in the fall* of our two heroes (*cuddling)

by orchidtotality (gayriot)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: :D, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Attempt at Humor, Boyfriends, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, This Is STUPID, this is pure fluff because fuck it man idk i felt like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 16:00:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayriot/pseuds/orchidtotality
Summary: John’s a goddamn moron if he really thinks that sixty degrees alone is gonna warm up this icebox, and you’ll be damned to hell if you’re going to sit here in his retired basketball shorts and take it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ...hi yes im alive i apologize for not existing lets skip the court case and the part where i beg your mother for partial custody of you all despite being a dreadfully neglectful father and get to the fic

The fine line between “tolerable stupidity” and “outright bullshit” has been blurred to hell. John’s a goddamn moron if he really thinks that sixty degrees alone is gonna warm up this icebox, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to sit here in his retired basketball shorts from freshman year and take it up the ass like a bitch. 

 

Uh, that simile isn’t exactly the one you were looking for.

 

The air you breath is cold and sharp, transcending any and all suitable temperatures. John’s feet are bare, absentmindedly resting on the wooden floor as he scribbles away on his Human Anatomy papers. His electives this year were both nerdy and incredibly challenging, albeit somewhat surprising for a sophomore to take on. His workload only seems to increase every time you come over. That’s what he gets for being a major dorkwad.

 

While the room itself is about sixty, the floor seems to be thirty degrees below, according to your internal thermometer. John, being made of nothing but a cold Prankster’s Gambit and a chilled, icy heart that’s been shaken, not stirred, is sitting peacefully in his uniform khaki shorts and a thin green t-shirt that was concealed underneath his polo for the entire school day. Your outfit consists of your PE clothes--a white t-shirt with the word “NEFF” scribbled on the back in black Sharpie, gray and blue shorts (that may or may not be just a little too big for you; they come down just at the end of your kneecaps and like to swish when you walk too fast), and one of John's pairs of ugly, yellow socks. Nothing you’re currently wearing happens to belong to you, in fact; save for the black Sharpie marker that created the delicate penmanship on the shirt. 

 

When you touch the floor with your feet, the cold that’s decided to drape itself across the ground like a huge fucking dickhead still permeates the yellow fabric. Thus, you are left shivering in pain on John’s bed, scowling at the back of his head as he continues to spew cursive word-vomit onto his Anatomy worksheet. 

 

“John, if you don’t fix this, my balls are going to freeze and fall off,” you bite at him.

 

All he does is laugh, not bothering to turn around to face you. He continues writing. 

 

“How dare you laugh at my misery. It won’t be so funny when I ejaculate all over your pillow and my nut inevitably turns to black ice. How would you enjoy that, Jonathan? Is frozen sperm something you’re into, you sick heathen?”

 

He turns his paper over, and then repeats the same motions with his pencil as before. “Dave, it’s, like, above sixty in here! I set the heater to sixty-five degrees. Quit being a pussy!”

 

You watch as he shifts slightly so that you can see the smug grin growing on his face. Bastard.

 

“Oh, hell no, gir'. I bet you pulled some Plankton-slash-Krabs rivalry bull and taped that temperature on there. In actuality, you set the heater to, like, twenty degrees. Tha’s the only plausible explanation.”

 

“Uhh, what?” he asks with a snort, finally turning in his chair to look at you.

 

“Shit man, yanno, that Spongebob episode? You ain’t ever seen that?”

 

John, ever the poor, uncultured fool, simply shakes his head in response. 

 

“Oh my god,” you whisper, clutching at the area where your heart...probably is, “dude, I am so sorry. We need to watch that later.”

 

He beams at you, tongue poking between his teeth. “Bro, your heart’s on the other side of your chest!”

 

“Man, I know that. Just testin’ ya skills. Gotta keep ‘em sharp, Eggy. Don’t want you failing Human Anatomy the first year in.”

 

He slouches against his desk chair and laughs loudly, concealing his mouth in his hands, as if you’d just said one of the funniest things he’s ever heard. And to him, you probably did. The sight makes you snicker somewhat. 

 

He stands up, sliding across the room with his naked feet against the frigid floor, apparently impervious to the cold. He flops down next to you on his bed, where his sudden entrance makes you bounce slightly on the mattress. With ease, he gathers you in his arms and you curl up against him, face buried in his chest and bent knees knocking against his own. You curl your arm around him, the other squished between a Strider-Egbert sandwich, effectively locking him in The World’s Comfiest and Most Half-Assed Chokehold. 

 

“I can’t believe you find sixty degrees cold. You are so lame,” he murmurs lightly against your ear, making you shiver, and hopefully he just assumes it’s from the cold.

 

“Whatever, cuckass. You know that my body is not used to such low standards.”

 

John’s laugh sends a warm breath across the top of your head. He mutters something about your “weak, frail body” as he presses a kiss to your temple.

**Author's Note:**

> if u have any requests pls lemme kno!! also does anyone still use pesterchum bc i do and i want friends drop ur handles in the comments maybe??? i feel like a desperate dad(trademark) that still uses myspace(trademark)


End file.
